


when irish eyes are smiling

by ftmsteverogers



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, M/M, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftmsteverogers/pseuds/ftmsteverogers
Summary: “Not sure what I did to make you think I was that sort of fella, Mr. Barnes,” Steve said, but he also switched off the burner and the radio, turning around in Bucky’s arms to put his hands on his shoulders.  “In fact, I’m not sure what you’re doing in my kitchen in the first place.”“Why, I’m here to invite you to a night on the town,” Bucky said, grinning.  “Music, dancing, and maybe, if you play your cards right - ”  He smoothed his hand over Steve’s waist, thumb pressing against his sharp hipbone.  “ - I’ll show you exactly what kinda fella I am.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Do yourself a favor and listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFdn5YBrqOg) and imagine Steve and Bucky dancing to it.

“Well, this is as good as I’m gonna get it,” Bucky muttered to himself, wiping his brow with his wrist, and surveyed the room with a critical eye.  He’d shoved all the furniture to the sides of the room, the record player he’d borrowed from Mrs. McFeely downstairs propped up on a side table under the window, and an empty space in the middle of the room that would allow a couple tight circles of movement if Bucky was careful.  Wasn’t exactly a dance hall, but it’d do for his purposes.

“Are you done making a racket?” Steve asked, poking his head out from the kitchen.  “I can’t hear the radio.”

Bucky stuck his tongue out at him.  “I’m doin’ this for you, asshole.  How’s dinner coming?”

Steve flushed and disappeared back into the kitchen, which was answer enough.  Bucky ducked his head when he smiled and rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, wishing, not for the first time, that he could pull up the blinds and open the windows without feeling uncomfortably exposed.  It was a little piece of heaven, living in this apartment with Steve, but prying eyes could tear it from his hands all too easily if he wasn’t careful, if he wasn’t always watching his back.  Better to keep the windows shut and covered, just in case.

He took off his tie, draping it over the arm of Steve’s chair and undid the first couple buttons of his shirt, but he left his suspenders on his shoulders and smirked to himself as he did so.  (He’d seen the look in Steve’s eyes when he kept ‘em on, those long narrow fingers curling around them to tug Bucky close enough to kiss.  Bucky knew what he was doing.) 

Crossing into the kitchen, Bucky came up behind Steve and slipped his arms around that skinny waist, tucking his face into the crook of Steve’s neck.  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, and kissed the side of Steve’s neck, just beneath his ear.  “Finish burning dinner later, I have a surprise for you.”

Steve poked half-heartedly at the pan on the stove with a wooden spoon.  “Not sure what I did to make you think I was that sort of fella, Mr. Barnes,” he said, but he also switched off the burner and the radio, turning around in Bucky’s arms to put his hands on his shoulders.  “In fact, I’m not sure what you’re doing in my kitchen in the first place.”

“Why, I’m here to invite you to a night on the town,” Bucky said, grinning.  “Music, dancing, and maybe, if you play your cards right - ”  He smoothed his hand over Steve’s waist, thumb pressing against his sharp hipbone.  “ - I’ll show you exactly what kinda fella _I_ am.”

Steve didn’t shiver, but the warmth in his eyes told Bucky it’d been a close call.  “Well,” Steve said, and cleared his throat, one hand on Bucky’s chest, fingertips dipping beneath a suspender.  “You know I can never say no to you.”

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he took Steve’s hands in his own, tugging him out of the kitchen and into their tiny living room where he put on a record with hasty fingers.  Bing Crosby’s smooth voice filled the whole apartment, almost as warm and familiar as Steve’s body against his when Bucky pulled him close, one hand in the middle of Steve’s back, directly between his shoulder blades.  He thought about shaking floorboards and decided against the Lindy Hop, which Steve would probably thank him for, anyway; Steve could hold his own better than most people thought, but he was surprisingly heavy-footed, and waltzing was the safest option.  Probably wouldn’t end in ceiling dust getting rained down on Ms. Goodman’s head down in the apartment directly below, anyway.

“Bucky,” Steve said softly, and now he was shaking, hand gripping Bucky’s tightly despite the tremors.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were wooing me.”

“Just wait ‘til I buy you flowers, doll, then you’ll know I’m wooing you,” Bucky replied, voice just as quiet, and pressed his cheek against Steve’s as he started to rock them both in little circles, the one-two-three steps of the waltz moving them like the tide.  Bucky was moving backward - letting Steve lead - but they both knew who was making sure they didn’t run into the coffee table and bookshelves, and it wasn’t the tiny punk who kept trying to look at his feet.

The thin rays of sunset light that made it through the slatted blinds cut across Steve’s hair, turning it to spun gold as it streaked over his head.  Bucky watched through his eyelashes as their shadows moved with their feet, inky-black and tangled up together.

“You aren’t half as bad at this as you keep telling people you are,” Bucky said, turning his face so he could kiss Steve’s cheek, lips lingering on skin that was just barely rough with stubble.

Steve huffed out a laugh, hand flexing at Bucky’s waist, their bodies close enough to bump into each other as they danced.  “I only say that so people don’t bug me about joining in,” he said.  “I stopped stepping on your feet months ago, I’d call that progress.”

Bucky thought about that, about Steve making excuses so he could stay on the sidelines, easily slipping into the role of the sheepish best friend.  He’d probably lean against the bar with a cup in his hand, eyes unreadable as they tracked Bucky slip-sliding across the dance floor with a girl he wouldn’t remember well enough to name in the morning.  Bucky sometimes thought he could feel that dark and heavy gaze pressing down on his back, but whenever he looked up, Steve’s eyes were somewhere else.

They weren’t somewhere else now.  Steve was looking up at him with the kind of stubborn challenge that Bucky had never backed down from, not once.  Bucky let go of Steve’s hand, but only so he could cup Steve’s face in his calloused palms and kiss him hard, daring, with the swell of the music behind him urging him to tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and slide a strong arm around his waist to press their bodies flush together.

Steve made a desperate sound against his mouth, hand fisted around the collar of Bucky’s shirt.  He shoved Bucky back and Bucky gasped, surprised, falling onto the old sofa he’d pushed up against the wall, and watched through half-open eyes as Steve clambered over his legs to straddle him, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of Bucky’s hips.

“Don’t really want you dancing with anyone else,” Steve admitted, voice low and rough.  “Sort of kills me.”

All Bucky could do was nod, flushed, lips kiss-red and voice all tangled up in his throat.  Steve was the only one who could strike him dumb like this, rob him of his charm and leave him aching and vulnerable, so full of love that he could feel it heavy in the pit of his stomach.  In his hands.  In every part of him, from his tingling fingertips to the core of his chest.  

He reached up, stroked the hair out of Steve’s eyes, and made a soft, involuntary sound when Steve turned his face into his wrist and kissed him there, directly over his pulse.

“You got nothin’ to worry about, baby,” Bucky managed, stroking his thumb over Steve’s high cheekbone.  “You’re the only one I wanna dance with.  ‘Specially with what we always end up doing instead of dancing.”

Steve grinned down at him at that, and Bucky was just starting to smile back when Steve hooked his fingers around Bucky’s suspenders and hauled him into a kiss that felt like victory, that felt like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm barneswilson on tumblr! Come say hi :)


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